Page 7 of How to Date a Prince

The man puts up his hands. He frowns, revealing excellent frown lines around his mouth, which are far more appealing than they have any right to be. “My mistake. I must’ve read the scene wrong. And, by the way, I don’t need professional help of any kind, if that’s what you’re saying. Clearly, I’m interrupting something.”

“Clearly. You are.” I let go of Katie and fold my arms over my chest. Meanwhile, my face is actually on fire. “Please excuse us.”

He frowns, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, man.”

With a shake of his head, the stranger turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

I sigh with unbounded relief and hide my disappointment like the expert I am at burying my feelings. At least he didn’t recognize me and took me for a regular sort of arse rather than a princely arse. There must be a deceased member of the Royal Family watching out for me, at least when it comes to the disguise department. Not so much for the talking department.

“Sorry.” I glance at Katie, who looks at me as if I’ve completely lost the plot. “I know that was shockingly rude, but I can’t risk somebody figuring out who I am. Who was that, anyway?”

“You don’t know?” Katie looks at me, flustered, still reeling from the last couple of minutes. She gazes at me as if she’s seeing me for the first time in a new light. “That was Thomas Golden, of course. Of Golden Hotels. Heir to a fortune, like you. And an influencer. Doesn’t his father lead some anti-monarchy movement? Anyway, he’s supposed to be onRenaissance Man.It’s a show filming next week outside of London. There’s a lot of buzz. But never mind Thomas Golden.”

“Thomas Golden,” I echo blankly, his name unfamiliar on my tongue. Gav would have absolutely loved my performance. Theo would have shaken me to next week. Or flirted with the stranger like a proper champion.

“Thomas Golden,” she confirms.

All of a sudden, it’s a million degrees in the club, my face hot. And it’s not because Katie’s looking at me with want, even after my shambolic performance a couple of moments ago.

“Oh. Well, reality TV can have him, then. Not me.” I look over at the bar, desperate to move from this spot and permanently suppress the memory of my poor behavior.

Golden Hotels is only one of the premier global hotel brands. I should have made the connection. Business is definitely not my strong suit, but it is Katie’s with her new MBA. Katie’s chasing up gallery exhibition sponsorships, using her knowledge of corporate love language. She’s also got her finger on the social pulse far more than I do, especially since I don’t have any social media myself. We’re meant to have royal protocols about that sort of thing.

“My fortune, actually, is the taxpayers’ fortune. It’s not actually mine. I haven’t earned anything much so far other than a stipend.” I shove my hands into my pockets, feeling useless because, quite frankly, I haven’t earned my way through life so far.

No fortune for me until my father dies, and I inherit our family’s private estate and everything that goes with it, but the last thing I want is to be orphaned. Or King. Both of which are legitimate worries these days with my father’s poor health. None of this is something I want to think about, so I squoosh it down to where I keep dank and dreary feelings to reflect on with vigor when the 3:00 a.m. ennui washes over me.

Katie shrugs off my comments. “Anyway, I’d say you ruined my prospects with my future husband.” Her tone is light, and then she quickly breaks my gaze to instead look at the crowd around us.

But Thomas Golden hadn’t been paying attention to Katie. Obviously.

“Is he actually… you know?” I hate myself for not even being able to say the word in public. Call me paranoid, but there’s too much on the line.

“Gay?” Katie finishes helpfully. “I don’t know for sure. I think so. He had a boyfriend a while back. But then I read something online about him sunning himself in the Med lately with a sumptuous influencer named Sara, who has at least a million followers on Instagram. Or two. And he has a big following himself.”

If he has a girlfriend, then obviously, he wasn’t at all interested in me. I haven’t been seen out with a woman in ages until tonight, and there could be rumors about me that he wanted to test. If he recognized me, that is. He couldn’t have.

Katie puts our empty glasses on the bar. “Let’s dance.”

Everyone’s caught up with the DJ, high energy coursing through us all like one body. We move with the crowd, and I let go at last, twirling Katie on the dance floor. Strobe lights flash, and mirror balls spin. Everything’s purple-pink-green. She’s leaning into me, and I pull her close as her eyes widen in surprise. There’s a long moment where our gazes lock before I let her go.

Out here, there’s no Prince Auggie. No Katie. No Royal Family and no responsibilities. Or family legacies or expectations or lonely nights in a palace.

Meanwhile, Gav and Anne leave reasonably at midnight.

There’re shots at the bar and more dancing, till exhaustion strikes before last call. It could be my imagination, but I swear I glimpse Thomas Golden through the crowd at one point before he disappears mercifully from sight again.

Laughing, we stumble outside, our arms around each other to keep upright. I haven’t been this drunk since uni. The schedule in the last couple of years feels like five years packed into two.

We head into blinding flash photography in another set of strobe lights.

The paparazzi. Shit. Fuck it.

“Prince Auggie!”

“Prince Auggie, who’s your date?” someone calls out.

“It’s Katie!” someone else shouts out.

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